Knowers & Demons III: Nightmare Life in Death
by Enthusiastic Fish
Summary: Third installment in the Knowers and Demons series. Tim and Tony are pulled back into the supernatural world, only this time, they don't know why. Eight chapters.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** This is part three is my _Knowers and Demons_ series. The first two are _Set the Captives Free_ and _Darkness There And Nothing More_. It's a supernatural buddy series, and I've had a lot of fun with it. I make references to the earlier stories, and none of these are very long. I'm not as comfortable with the supernatural genre as I am with others. All the poems in Chapter 7 come from Dean Koontz' _Book of Counted Sorrows_. I make no claim to have created them, but they fit so well with this story that I used them.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own NCIS nor its characters. All the poetry belongs to the original authors. I am not making any money off this story.

* * *

><p><strong>Nightmare Life-in-Death<br>**by Enthusiastic Fish

_Her lips were red, her looks were free,  
><em>_Her locks were yellow as gold:  
><em>_Her skin was white as leprosy,  
><em>_The Nightmare LIFE-IN-DEATH was she,  
><em>_Who thicks man's blood with cold.  
><em>The Rime of the Ancient Mariner _by Samuel Taylor Coleridge_

**Chapter 1**

"Hey, McGee, what's up?" Tony asked as he caught up with Tim outside NCIS.

"Nothing. Why?" Tim asked.

"It's that time of year."

"_What_ time of year?"

"Halloween. I'd think that it would be a perfect time for...you know..._weird _things to happen."

Tim laughed. "So far as I know, demons aren't restricted by the time of year."

"Well, I'll trust you when it comes to knowing."

Tim hitched a shoulder. "I wish I didn't, sometimes."

"Didn't what?"

"Know."

"You seeing things again?"

Tim shook his head. Since he had sealed the portal to the demon world last year, he had sensed the presence of otherworldly things much less...but still... His last direct confrontation with a genuine demon had led to his own possession and temporary death and then to Tony's possession. In short, he didn't feel he'd come out of it very well. Even last year, he'd almost been forced to kill Tony in order to get away after he'd been dragged into the demon world. Rhian had saved him from death, twice. Her husband, Sorin, had saved Tony from demonic possession. Overall, Tim felt more like he'd just been along for the ride.

"Hey, Probie, what's wrong?"

"What if I can't handle it the next time?"

"Next time?"

"The next time some crazy weird event springs up," Tim said. "It was only luck that I've survived this long, and if it hadn't been for you, for Rhian, for Sorin, for... I couldn't ever do it alone."

"Who says you _have_ to? Wasn't that the whole point the first time? You _couldn't_ do it alone and you _had_ to have someone with you?"

"Yeah...I guess...but..."

Tony put his arm around Tim's shoulders.

"But nothing. You think I got that dragon tattoo on my chest for fun? It means something, McGee. It means that you _don't_ have to deal with those things alone. If another evil demon rears its ugly head...or someone else's ugly head for that matter, I'll be along for the ride."

Tim smiled. "Thanks, Tony."

"No problem, McGee. Maybe today will be a nice normal day and then, tomorrow, on Halloween, people _won't_ start pulling crazy stunts."

"Yeah, right. Like that'll happen."

"There's always a remote chance. _Very_ remote."

Tim suddenly felt his jacket pockets.

"Oh, I forgot my phone, Tony. You go on."

"You're going to be late, Probie. You know what that'll mean..."

"I can handle a Gibbs slap much more easily than I can handle not having my phone with me."

Tim grinned and dashed back to his car. There was his phone on the seat. He couldn't remember why it wasn't in his pocket like it usually was, but no matter...

Then, he glanced into his rearview mirror and saw...

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Probie? Hey...McGee. Tim! Snap out of it!"

Tim jumped and started breathing heavily. Then, he looked back behind him, out his back window, only half knowing what it was he was looking for.

"Tim! What's wrong? What's going on?"

Tim looked around wildly and then suddenly noticed that Tony was crouched in front of him, looking very worried.

"Tony! When did you get here? Did you follow me?"

"McGee, it's been half an hour. Gibbs sent me out to drag you in to work."

"Half an hour?" Tim asked. "That's...not possible. I just...I sat down...I..."

"What?"

"I looked in the rearview mirror...and then...I..."

"What?"

"I saw..." Tim looked in the mirror. There was nothing.

"What did you see?"

"I don't...know."

Tim looked down at his right hand. It was clenched in a tight fist. In fact, his knuckles were white. Tony followed his gaze.

"What happened?"

"I don't know," Tim said.

It took some doing, but he managed to unclench his fist. It was as if his fingers had forgotten how to move. Slowly, he forced them to open, revealing the three-headed dragon tattoo...the one only he and Tony could see. Tony exclaimed loudly.

"McGee!"

Tim made no sound. He was fascinated...in a macabre way. It didn't hurt at all. In fact, he wondered if anyone else would see it besides Tony.

His tattoo was bleeding. Every line of it was marked in red, not in its usual black. For a moment, it glowed brightly and shivered...as if it had just been attacked.

"What did you see, McGee?" Tony asked again.

Tim lifted his hand up and looked at the bloody lines on his palm.

"I...don't...know, Tony." He looked up at Tony. "I don't have any idea."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

It took only a few moments for Tim to clean up the blood on his hand. It was real...but it wasn't the bloody tattoo. He'd clenched his fist so tightly that his nails had dug into his palms. Still, he couldn't remember what in the world he'd seen in his mirror. He didn't have a clue what had happened during that half hour.

...and the worst of it was that they couldn't even really do anything about it. If this was something related to Tim's ability as a knower (an ability which was currently failing him), it wasn't like any doctor could help...and any shrink would think he was crazy.

"What am I going to tell Gibbs?" Tim asked.

"You couldn't find your phone?"

"He's never going to believe that, Tony. It wouldn't take half an hour to go through my car."

"You got sick?"

"He'll send me home."

"That may not be a bad thing, you know."

Tim looked at his hand again and shook his head. "No...I need to be here today."

"Why?"

"I don't know for sure. I just...I can't leave."

Tony recognized that look in Tim's eyes. It was a distant look, as if he was hearing something far away...or perhaps on another plane of existence. It was no use arguing with that look.

"You were flirting."

Tim just laughed.

"What?"

"You and I both know that I'm a miserable failure at that. I don't think I could keep a girl's attention for five minutes, let alone half an hour."

"I seem to recall a few girls who were interested in you...and not in me."

Tim flushed and started walking back toward the building.

"So what are you going to say?"

Tim shrugged and walked in silence, his mind clearly occupied by other matters...like what had caused him to disconnect for 30 minutes.

"You think Ducky might be able to help me?" Tim asked.

"Help with what?"

"Maybe some ideas on what physical cause there could be for what happened?"

"Only if you trust him to keep it to himself."

Tim grimaced. "Ducky talks a lot, but he usually doesn't talk about other people's secrets."

"True. Well...couldn't hurt. This hasn't ever happened before, has it?"

Tim held up his hand, the red lines around his tattoo still very obvious. "I'm pretty sure I'd remember if my invisible tattoo had started bleeding before."

"Yeah."

They got to the building and just before they stepped inside...

"Blonde or brunette?" Tim asked.

"Huh?"

"The girl."

Tony chuckled. "Brunette."

"Okay." Tim took a deep breath and went inside.

They went up to the bullpen and Tim waited for it. ...and it came.

_Thwack!_

"McGee, what have you been doing?"

"Well...uh...Boss..." Tim's courage disappeared and Tony could see that he didn't dare lie. "Sorry. Won't happen again."

Gibbs looked at him closely. "You feeling all right?"

"Yeah. I'm fine. Why?"

"You look pale, McGee," Ziva said. "Is something wrong with your hand?"

"Huh?" Tim looked down and his right hand was opening and closing of its own accord. He shook it. "No, nothing's wrong with my hand."

Tony made sure he did _not_ make eye contact. Nothing to indicate that he and Tim were in cahoots about _anything_. Trying to explain all this would be well-nigh impossible.

"We've got some time, McGee. Go and have Ducky check you out."

"But, Boss, I feel fine!" Tim protested.

"Go."

Tim nodded and got on the elevator. As soon as the doors closed, Gibbs rounded on Tony.

"What's going on?"

"What do you mean, Boss?"

"What's wrong with McGee?"

"Heck, I don't know."

"Where was he?" Ziva asked.

"In his car. Maybe he was chatting up a hot chick and got nervous about it. You know the Probie isn't at his best with those of the female persuasion."

"_I_ am of the 'female persuasion', Tony," Ziva said. "I do not think it has been to McGee's disadvantage."

"You're different. Besides, I don't know. He's seems fine to me. Maybe a bit...out of it...but he's like that every time he sits at his computer!"

Tony looked at Gibbs...wondering if Gibbs himself had a bit of the knower in him. He seemed to know everything already anyway.

"Anyway, if something _is_ wrong with McGee, Ducky'll find out and let us know. I'm not worried."

And that was a lie. A huge lie. A _colossal_ lie. Tim had been so still and white when Tony had found him in the car, he had almost looked dead. It had frightened Tony more than he'd admitted to Tim. However, Tim was the knower. He had lots of experience with this stuff and if he wasn't worried, then, Tony would trust him...for now.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Timothy what brings you down here so early in the morning?"

Tim shrugged. "Gibbs thinks I need to be checked out."

"What for?"

"I don't know."

Ducky scrutinized him. "I suppose that you are a bit more pale than is your general coloring, but you feel all right?"

"Actually, Ducky...could I ask you a question? ...one that you won't tell Gibbs about?"

"You may be assured of my discretion. What is it?"

"I kind of...lost half an hour."

"What do you mean you _lost_ it?" Ducky asked.

"Half an hour passed and I don't remember it. So far as I know, I was just sitting in my car, but I don't remember."

"Never had any symptoms like this before?"

"Never."

"Any extreme stress lately?"

"Not lately."

"Have you been sleeping well?"

"It's been fine."

Ducky looked at him closely. "Well...have a seat and we'll see what we can see in a basic examination. If I find nothing, might I suggest that you go to your doctor and get a full checkup? Something like this can be nothing or it could be very serious."

"Right."

Ducky grabbed his bag and began his examination.

"Put this under your tongue," he said, giving Tim a thermometer.

In the relative silence, Ducky took Tim's pulse and checked his blood pressure, his respiration. Then, he pulled out the thermometer.

"Well, your temperature is a little high, but your blood pressure is a bit low." Then, Ducky noticed Tim's hand. "What is that, Timothy?"

Tim lifted his hand. "What do you mean?" he asked, making sure that Ducky wasn't seeing the tattoo.

"Those marks. It looks as though you were clenching your fist."

Tim looked. It was often hard to remember that the tattoo couldn't be seen by anyone else...except Tony.

"I guess I was."

"So what happened before you missed this time?"

"I went to my car to get my phone. I looked in the rearview mirror...and then, Tony was there...and it was half an hour later."

"And you're not aware of this happening any other time?"

"No."

"All right. Well, I see nothing to indicate anything very serious, although I would like to know what you did to your palm."

"Nothing that I know of, Ducky."

Very well. Schedule an appointment with your regular doctor and get a full checkup."

"Okay. You don't see any reason for me not to work, right?"

"I suppose not."

"Okay. Good." Tim hopped off the table.

"Do you know why Jethro sent you down here?"

"No. I thought it was weird."

Ducky chuckled. "I suppose even Jethro can have a moment of worry."

"I guess. I'll get back to work."

"You have my blessing, Timothy."

Tim grinned. "Thanks, Ducky."

"But do speak to your doctor."

"Yeah. I will," Tim said, but he rather thought that he wouldn't...since he was fairly certain that this didn't have a real physical cause but was due to the supernatural element of his life.

He went back up to the bullpen and told Gibbs he had a clean bill of health. He didn't mention the claw marks on his palm, but he was kind of distracted by his hand all through the morning. Sometimes, he felt a tingling in his palm and he would look at it to find the tattoo shuddering. He didn't know what it was, but he felt certain something was going to happen. He just didn't know what it was. He didn't know why he couldn't remember what he'd seen, but there was something going on.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

For a wonder, the day was actually quite slow. Gibbs set them working on some older cases, and while Tony was still worried about Tim, he couldn't help but be relieved at the calm. As he was scanning one of the old robbery cases, his eyes fell on a name he didn't remember before.

"Hey, Boss, did anyone ever talk to this Greta Louhi?"

"Who?" Ziva asked.

"Apparently lives not far from the place where the cash was stolen. She's listed as a witness here, but no statement in the record as far as I can see. Can you?"

"McGee?" Gibbs asked.

Tim started typing. "Uh...Greta Louhi. Single, mid-50s, occupation is listed as a librarian and free-lance literary critic. Lived in the neighborhood for...says ten years. ...but I don't see any statement recorded for her either."

"Okay. Tony, you and McGee go out and talk to her. See if she remembers anything from last year."

"On it, Boss," Tony said.

Tim got up as well, but he seemed a bit out of it. This time, Gibbs didn't notice. He was already back in the files, trying to find something else that might tell them where the money had gone.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"What's going on, McGee?" Tony asked.

Tim just shook his head.

"Hey, talk to me. I'm the only one who you _can_ talk to. Remember?"

"Don't you think it's at all strange that there's this woman who lives right next door and we never talked to her? Never asked if she saw anything? Never wrote anything down?"

"Yeah," Tony said. "Why? ...you think it might be something else?"

Tim sighed. "I don't know. Tony...as uncertain as I've been before...I feel like I'm grasping at straws here, trying to figure things out. Like...like I don't _know_ anymore."

"Still bleeding?" Tony asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

"Yeah." Tim held up his hand. The tattoo was bleeding still. "It tingles sometimes."

"Ducky didn't have any ideas?"

"No...because I think that whatever happened was...not normal."

"Yeah, big surprise," Tony said. "So you want to give up on this Louhi lady?"

"No way. Gibbs would kill us, but let me go first, okay?"

"If it's one of your demons, I think I'm happy to let you figure that out."

Tim chuckled as they pulled into the driveway. The house itself seemed to loom. It was a house that would _not_ need Halloween decorations to look scary.

They got out and walked up to the front door. Tim knocked.

"Come in!" came a pleasant voice.

They looked at each other. Not what they'd expected. Tim hesitantly turned the knob and stepped into the house, Tony right on his heels.

"Hello? Ms. Louhi? We're from NCIS."

"Back here! Down the hall!"

Tim looked over his shoulder. "Tony? Maybe you should hang back a bit."

"How back a bit?" Tony asked.

"Just...a bit."

"No way, McGee. Letting you go first does not mean I'm sitting out completely...especially if this is going to be serious. You have your gun this time."

Tim smiled weakly. "I don't plan on shooting myself this time."

"Good, but I'm still not hanging back."

Tim nodded and walked forward. At the end of the hall, he turned to the left and looked into the room. He crossed the threshold just a moment before Tony could catch up...and he saw Tim's face go white. He opened his mouth to speak, holding up his tattooed hand...but no words came out.

Tony tried to run over, but he found himself frozen in place. The pleasant voice came again.

"Having trouble, are you?"

Tim staggered forward, out of Tony's line of sight...as if he'd been pulled forward by a rope.

"McGee!" Tony shouted...but still, he couldn't move. He was stuck in the hallway, maybe two steps away from the door.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Tim's memory came rushing back as he looked at Greta Louhi. The long stringy hair, the red lips...but most of all the white eyes. Her eyes were dead. No life in them. No color. It was those eyes that he had seen in his rearview mirror. He saw in a flash what had happened...and he repeated the same movement.

He lifted his hand, his tattooed hand, pointing it directly at her. A lilting laugh passed her lips.

"I don't think so. Not this time. Let's see how you do _without_ a physical form to fight in...and I don't like the look of your hand."

In a motion much like a puppet being controlled by a puppeteer pulling the strings, Greta raised her hand, her fingers distorting into claws.

"What are your nightmares, knower?" she asked.

Against his will, all Tim's deepest fears loomed up in his mind. Then, a shaft of dark light burst out of her hand. Following some instinct he didn't even understand, Tim clenched his fist as tightly as he could. The light swirled around him.

Then, he was being sucked down in a whirling vortex, down, down, down...

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

There was a heavy thump from the room. Then, nothing.

Tony was fighting against whatever power was holding him in place and so he nearly fell over when whatever it was suddenly vanished. He staggered forward, missed the doorway and then ran back and looked inside.

There was a lot to see, but his attention was all on Tim. Tim was lying on the floor. His eyes were wide open staring blankly, his right hand was raised up in front of his face but was again clenched into a tight fist. He was breathing heavily, as if he was terrified by whatever his sightless eyes were seeing. Then, Tony noticed it. Blood on the floor beneath Tim's head.

That thump. Tim must have fallen straight back without any attempt to catch himself.

Finally, Tony looked up. There was a woman sitting on a chair, looking for all the world like a queen surveying her domain. Only this woman was not the ruler of any earthly world. She must be Greta but _what _was she?

"What have you done?" Tony demanded, standing up and drawing his gun.

She laughed.

"Shoot me if you think it will help. Can a dream be destroyed? Can thoughts suffer wounds?"

"Thoughts?" Tony asked.

She smiled and her white eyes widened until they seemed to take up half her face.

"He is mine unless he can escape Death."

"What?"

"He has escaped once. But he is not in this world...and his power cannot help him. I have taken it."

Tony felt stupid, but he could only seem to repeat her words. "Power?"

Greta's smile didn't change. She stood, but very awkwardly, as if the body was not fully in her control. Her eyes never blinked.

"He is a knower. He has that power, but not where he is now. You cannot know if it is not real."

Tony felt a burning on his own chest where that tattoo was located and knew his gun was not going to help in this situation. Instead, he bent over and tried to pick Tim up.

"Well...wherever he is...we're not staying here."

Greta laughed. "If you can find your way out, you may leave...but can _you_ fight _his_ fears?"

Then, with a sudden smooth gesture, completely at odds with her previous movements, Greta swept her arm around in a circle and then spun her whole body. A violent wind sprang up out of nowhere and swirled around her.

She vanished.

Tony turned around and around, looking for her and then shivered at a presence just behind him.

"_How can you fight someone else's fears?"_

He turned.

Nothing there...and no door either. The door had disappeared. Trapped.

The window? Tony ran to the window...but when he looked out, it was pitch black. Not like at nighttime, but as if he was in a cave in the bowels of the earth. No light at all. He turned around and ran back to Tim.

Tim was still in the same position. Still breathing heavily. Still bleeding. His hand still in front of his face. His eyes still open and unseeing.

"McGee! McGee! Wake up!"

No response. In fact, Tim's body was so stiff with tension that Tony wondered if he'd even be able to get Tim out of the house at all.

"Tim!" he shouted and shook his friend.

He might as well have been yelling at a stone. Tim was far beyond hearing. Then, there was a presence behind him. Tony turned. ...and nearly let out an unmanly scream. All he saw was a faint outline...and those large white eyes.

"_Will _you _fight his fears or will he?"_

The voice echoed in the room...and then, the outline faded. Tony turned back to Tim.

"Fight his fears? What does she mean, McGee?" he asked. He knelt down beside the inert figure. "Look, I'm not a knower. I'm just along for the ride here. I don't know what to do, Tim!"

Suddenly, Tim took a deep breath and let it out in a bloodcurdling scream.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim hit the floor. Hard. The floorboards rattled and he felt dazed for a moment. Then, he rolled over onto his back and realized that he was no longer in that room, no longer seeing those eyes. He was...somewhere else. Wooden floor. Dusty air. Light in the room, but darkness all around him.

The sound of whispering echoed through the room and he looked around. No one was there. Then, the whispering grew louder, but there didn't seem to be any words being spoken, just an incessant susurration.

Then, there was a voice, louder than the whispers. Female.

"'_Do you know the terror of he who falls asleep? To the very toes he is terrified, because the ground gives way under him, and the dream begins.'" _

"Friedrich Nietzsche," Tim whispered. He sat up and looked around "Who's there?"

"_Are you ready for the answer to that question?"_

"Who are you?" Tim shouted.

The whispering grew still louder, and almost against his will, Tim felt his heart rate increase. He got to his feet and looked around. Nothing, but the whispers...he didn't know why, but he was sure they were evil.

"_Look behind you."_

Terrified, Tim forced himself to turn around.

And he screamed.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

After the scream, there was nothing. Tony had hoped that it was a signal that Tim was waking up...but no. The scream led to nothing.

"Who is doing this?" he demanded.

"_You are not ready for that answer. If you will leave him behind, you may go."_

Tony whirled around. The door had reappeared. There was light outside.

...and Greta's outline (along with her horrible eyes) was hovering in the doorway.

"I can't leave him."

"_You cannot save him. Will you fight his fears?"_

"I won't leave him behind."

"_This is your final word?"_

"Yes!"

"_Then, try, human. Try to save him. You will fail."_

Tony turned back to Tim and knelt down.

"_It is not wise to turn your back on your enemy!"_

Suddenly, Tony felt a presence behind him. He turned and this time he did scream. Greta was there. Her eyes as white as ever, but her face was blood. Not bloody. Her eyes stared out of blood. He sprang backwards.

Greta only laughed and vanished from sight, her pleasant (yet somehow evil) laughter echoing in the room.

Tony breathed heavily for a few moments and then swallowed and crawled back to Tim.

"McGee? Please?"

Nothing.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim turned and began to run, fleeing from the dark spector. He fled from the lit room into the dark hallways. He ran and ran...and then came to a stop. At the end of the hallway was a white shape. It was large. Very large. It began to walk toward him. Slowly but never ceasing.

"Leave me alone!" Tim shouted.

He started lift his hand, but then he looked at it. Blood poured out of his palm where his tattoo had been. It wasn't just a little bit. It was torrents of blood. He looked at the spector. It was getting closer and closer. The closer it came, the more terrifying it was. About twenty feet from him, it suddenly burst into flames. Its arms reached out, fire dripping like water from the tips of the fingers.

Tim screamed again and ran away through the halls, searching for somewhere he could be safe, even for a moment, somewhere he could hide.

"_You cannot hide from me."_

The voice was loud but not shouting. It saturated the air around him. Tim felt like a child, scared of the monsters under the bed.

He turned into a room. It was dark, but the whispering seemed to be absent. Tim took a step forward and suddenly, he began to fall. He was falling endlessly. There didn't seem to be a ground below him.

...but then, there was a burst of light far below him. It rushed up toward him...or he fell down toward it. Either way, he was wrapped in the light. He felt like he was suffocating in the light. It was burning him.

"No! No!"

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tony lifted Tim's head and tried to stop the bleeding. He knew that head wounds often looked worse than they really were, but he still didn't want to leave Tim bleeding on the floor. Then, he took hold of Tim's hand and tried to force it down away from his face. Tim's eyes were still open, but Tony noticed suddenly that his eyes seemed to be losing color. They were pale.

"McGee...Tim, please...I don't know what to do!"

Then, he looked at Tim's hand, still clenched tightly. He didn't know if this was the right thing to do, but he started trying to open Tim's fist. He couldn't believe how tightly Tim had managed to keep his fist clenched.

"Come on, McGee. Relax a bit!" Tony said.

There was no response. Tim was still breathing heavily through his mouth.

Tony struggled to open Tim's fingers. He didn't know why he was doing this, but he felt like it was the only thing he _could_ do.

Finally, he succeeded. ...and he kind of wished that he hadn't. As he pulled at Tim's fingers, he wondered what Tim himself was experiencing.

Then, without warning, Tim's fingers flew open...and blood started to pour down his hand...but instead of dripping onto the floor like Tony would have expected, it traced strange patterns down Tim's arm.

It reminded Tony of the weird stuff Tim's tattoo would do when it came alive.

"The tattoo...is bleeding," Tony whispered.

There was something, an idea, forming in his head. He couldn't quite figure it out yet, but it was close to the surface.

"McGee..."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

The light disappeared.

Tim hit the floor. Hard. He rolled over and sat up.

The dark spector was there.

He knew who...or what it was.

He stood up.

"No," he said.

The spector smiled.

"_You cannot say no to Death."_

"Watch me."

He heard a laugh. He turned around.

White eyes. Cold smile.

"_I am watching. Will you fight your fear?"_

"I don't understand!"

"_I know."_

Dark light burst out of her eyes and swirled around in the space. Death did not move. Tim threw up his hands to ward off the attack.

The force of the light threw him back...and again he was falling into a pit.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Tony got to his feet and started pacing back and forth. He kept going through what Greta had said. More than once, she had asked him if he would fight Tim's fears.

...what if that was a genuine question, needing an answer? What if he _could_ fight Tim's fears? What _were_ Tim's fears?

"What could scare a guy who successfully defeated demons twice already? What could be scary to him?" Tony asked aloud.

Tim, of course, didn't give him any hints...but then...Tony realized that he had already. Hadn't they talked that very morning about whether or not Tim could succeed the next time...if there _was_ a next time? He'd been afraid that he wouldn't be able to do it on his own...and wherever he was right now...if he _was_ fighting his own fears...he was fighting them alone, afraid that he wouldn't succeed.

He was afraid of having to do it alone.

Tony almost shouted out...but then, he stopped. Greta had mentioned thoughts and dreams when he'd pulled out his gun. Everyone had nightmares sometimes, right? What kind of nightmares would someone like Tim have? The joking part of Tony wanted to blow that idea off by saying that a computer geek like Tim couldn't dream of anything that would scare a tough guy like Tony...but he himself had seen the kinds of _reality_ Tim had dealt with. His dreams could be pretty bad.

"Can I fight someone else's dreams? Someone else's fears?" Tony wondered aloud.

He looked down at Tim, his eyes wide open and unblinking. Blood still poured out of his hand and made strangely-intricate trails down his arm.

Tony knelt beside Tim again.

"McGee...am I strong enough to fight what scares you?"

To his surprise, Tim's lips began to move...but no sound came out, and his face took on no semblance of life. It was like an automaton. Then, a soft voice began to speak...from where, Tony didn't know, but it seemed to be Tim himself...only out of sync with his body...if that was possible.

"'Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration.'"

Tony wasn't sure if that scared him more than Greta did or not.

"Wait...I know that. It's from a movie! That's from _Dune_!" Tony stood up again, walking around the room with it's inky blackness out the windows and the solid wall where a door should be. "He says something else, too. It wasn't just that. What was it?"

The rest of the quote escaped him...but was that a warning? Or was it Greta playing with him again? She seemed to enjoy it...tormenting him for no reason. Her attacks on him hadn't actually hurt him...only frightened him. Why?

...but could he really, no matter what was going on, leave Tim to fight his fears alone? Even if he couldn't _help_, he could at least _be_ there.

"I'll fight his fears!" Tony shouted out. "Greta, you hear me? I'll fight his fears!"

A rush of wind.

"_You will fight his fears?"_

Tony spun around and nearly gagged. Her eyes were still that same dead white, but now, she'd taken on the appearance of decaying body...complete with bugs. Her voice was still the same, too. Funny how a pleasant, friendly voice could still sound so menacing.

"Yes. I will."

"_You will fail."_

"Why?"

Greta only laughed. _"If you are serious, human, then you will find out. You have one last chance to change your mind. There is no going back."_

"I'll fight Tim's fears," Tony said again.

She smiled and held up her hand.

"_Do you fear to fall, human?"_ she asked.

Before Tony could ask what she meant, a light burst out of her hand, swirled around him and seemed to eat up the floor beneath him.

Tony began to fall...and fall...and fall...Greta's laughter ringing in his ears all the way down.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim hit the ground and felt broken...but still, he struggled to his feet and looked around. No light. It was so dark. Then, he felt a presence.

...and a skeletal hand grabbed his arm. He pulled it away and started to run.

A laugh echoed around him, but he kept running. Suddenly, he stopped. Even though it was still dark, he sensed he was in an open area, something like the open air. He looked around and saw the faint outline of a building...a large building. It was like the Coliseum in Rome. ...but each archway was filled with shapes. He couldn't tell what they were...just shapes that filled him with terror.

He was being pursued. He couldn't see anyone, but he could feel them coming after him. He started to run...toward the large shape. His hand started to throb. He ignored it, knowing what he was likely to see if he looked. Instead, he ran.

Once he got into the structure, it was a maze of dark halls. Hands reached out of the walls and grasped at his clothes...but still feeling the pursuit from behind, Tim was urged forward.

Suddenly, he stumbled into a large open area...a stadium.

It was full of dead bodies. He stopped moving, breathing heavily and staring. It was like everyone in the world had died and the corpses had all been tossed into this place.

The feeling of pursuit vanished and Tim walked down the steps. It was still pitch black, but somehow he could see...could see the bodies. He looked around, down toward the field, up toward the lights. Bodies everywhere. He could smell the stench of death and decay. He continued on down.

A dark spector appeared in the center of the field. Tim wanted to run away, but he couldn't. He had to walk forward. A sudden wind blew through the stadium and Greta with her white eyes hovered translucently behind the spector.

He walked and walked, through the mass of death.

"_Why are they dead?"_

"I don't know," Tim whispered.

"_Why did you not save them?"_

Tim dropped his head and stared at the ground.

"_No one can run from Death."_

Tim fell to his knees, exhausted, defeated. He had no way of fighting and he couldn't run anymore.

"_You have lost."_

He couldn't muster the strength to deny it.

"_Hold out your hand."_

Tim lifted his right hand, still gushing blood from the tattoo on his palm. A skeletal hand reached out of the mass of darkness, reaching out toward his bloody palm.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tony hit the ground. Hard. It knocked the wind out of him, but he got up and looked around. It was so dark...and it felt so empty.

"McGee!" he called out. "McGee!"

Then, he felt a burning sensation, right in the center of his chest. He unbuttoned his shirt and saw that the dragon tattoo on his chest was glowing, so brightly that he spared just a moment to be glad that no one else could see this thing. It would be hard to explain a chest tattoo acting like a headlight.

He put his hand over the glowing brand...and was surprised to feel a pull...like he was getting directions.

"Well...nothing else is coming to mind." He turned to his left and began to run through the darkness, not worrying about the fact that he couldn't see and yet knew that there were no obstacles in his path.

After a while, he came upon a huge structure. It loomed large and black in the dark.

"McGee!" he yelled out again.

...and then screamed like a little girl when Greta's dead eyes suddenly appeared directly in front of him.

"_You cannot fight. He has lost."_

"No way," Tony said.

"_You can feel it...and with his death will come yours."_

"Get out of my way!" he said.

"_It is inevitable. None can escape Death."_

Tony gritted his teeth and ran forward..._through_ Greta's indistinct form.

It was like running through ice water...but he kept going and felt the burning in his chest spread across his whole body...melting the ice? Tony didn't know, but he was now sure that he was on the right track...since Greta was there trying to stop him.

Into the stadium...

Stadium?

Tony came out on the highest tier...but he had no memory of actually going up any stairs.

Dreams.

Nightmares.

He looked around and he knew he was in a nightmare. Where did all the bodies come from?

Then, he looked down toward the bottom. It was really far away, but he could still see the entire scene in devastating detail. Tim was standing right at the center of the field...in front of this towering dark...thing. Greta was there. Tony could see her eyes.

...and Tim had lost...just as Greta had said. He fell to his knees...and lifted his hand toward the dark shape.

Tony didn't know what to do...but he knew that there was no way that Tim should be doing what he was doing.

But he was so far away. How could he get down and stop something he didn't understand in the least?

"This is a dream...right?"

He thought back to Greta's question. Was he afraid of falling?

...what about jumping?

Tony took a deep breath...and then another one. He was taking a huge risk that he was understanding the situation even slightly. If he was wrong...he'd be dead.

...but if he did nothing, Tim would be dead. He closed his eyes...and started running.

When he got to the edge of the tier...

...he jumped.

...and fell.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Tony hit the ground and was jarred, stunned, but unhurt.

"Man, McGee, you _so_ owe me for this," he muttered and got back to his feet.

...and then, he ran across the field and, instead of trying to stop the strange figure (which he probably couldn't do anyway), he simply barreled right into Tim, figuring that Tim would at least be solid. He couldn't speak for the skeletal hand. If that was part of the dream, it might not be swayed by a solid mass running at it. ...but Tim would be. He hoped...

He collided with Tim just before the hand touched Tim's. The two of them tumbled into a painful heap on the ground.

The dark shape spun around like an evil tornado, sucking all the horror around them into the whirling mass. The whirling shape got larger and larger, the sound of the wind louder and louder. It seemed to expand to take up the entire universe...and then it suddenly shrank into a point and disappeared...leaving Tim and Tony alone on the ground in a space that was strangely black and lifeless. Tony pulled himself to his knees and crawled over to where Tim was lying.

"Tim? Hey...you okay?"

A weak groan answered him...but that was enough. Tony was relieved that he was getting any response at all. He pulled Tim over onto his back.

"Hey, I'm sorry I hit you so hard. I didn't dare slow down."

Tim opened his eyes and Tony pulled back. Tim looked at him.

"What's wrong, Tony?"

"Tim...your eyes..."

Tim blinked at him, looking confused, but Tony was instantly suspicious.

Tim's eyes were white...like Greta's.

Tim slowly pushed himself up.

"What's going on, Tony?" he asked.

His voice sounded the same, but his eyes.

"Are you sure you're Tim?" Tony asked.

"Yeah...why?"

"Your eyes..."

"What about them? What's wrong, Tony?"

"They're white."

"Like Greta's," Tim whispered. "I don't know why that would be."

"Who is she?"

"I don't know."

"What do you _mean_ you don't know?" Tony exclaimed. "You're a _knower_! That's supposed to be your job!"

Tim looked down. With his eyes hidden, he looked normal...and depressed. He held up his right hand and Tony noticed that it was still gushing blood.

"I think...she did something to me."

"What?"

"I don't know, but it won't stop bleeding."

"So...it can't be real blood...right? I mean, you'd be dead if this was real blood."

"Yeah...but I don't know anything. It's like she sucked it out of me."

"Oh..." Tony didn't know what to say for a moment. He had always depended on Tim knowing what to do, even halfway, when it came to this crazy world they lived in. To have him being completely at a loss...it was unnerving.

"I'm sorry, Tony," Tim said softly. "I wish I knew, but I don't. I can't...figure anything out. I just have to keep running because he won't leave me alone."

"Who?"

"Death."

"What?"

"That was him."

"Back there? The dark...ghoulish thing?"

"Yeah."

"Okay...uh..." Then, it hit him. "Wait! It's your tattoo, isn't it?"

"What is?"

"That's bleeding."

"Yeah." Tim looked up and Tony tried not to flinch away from Tim's frightening eyes.

"Well...remember last year?"

Tim's white eyes widened, and Tony caught a flash of green which gave him some sense of relief.

"No, Tony! No!"

"Why not?"

"Last year...just me being tired out from fighting those...those demons...that nearly killed you!" He held up his bloody palm. "I don't even know if you could do anything besides die if you touched this thing!"

"But if it's bleeding like this...I don't know how it works..."

"Neither do I."

"Well, wouldn't...it...run out of blood eventually and die?"

"Maybe. I don't know."

"What happens if that happens? Would you die, too?"

"I don't know. Tony, don't you get it?" he asked, his voice growing louder. "I...don't...know! ...and that scares me! I feel like I don't know anything except..." Then, he looked to the side. "They're coming again." He scrambled to his feet, looking around. "They're coming. I have to run!"

Tim took off without another word. As he ran, dark narrow corridors sprang up all around and Tony felt he had no other option. He ran after Tim. He didn't feel the sense of pursuit. He didn't see anyone coming...but then, it wasn't _his_ dream. It was Tim's.

...but running wasn't helping. Tony sped up and grabbed Tim from behind, turned him around. Tim's eyes were bright green, almost glowing, but he looked absolutely terrified.

"Tim! Stop!"

"Can't stop! They'll find me! They'll get me!"

"Who?"

Tim was gasping for breath and trying to pull away from Tony. He barely seemed to be seeing or hearing Tony. A dark spector...Death...appeared at the end of the hallway. Tony couldn't see Greta, but he guessed she was watching the proceedings. He couldn't imagine that she would miss it. ...but Tim was running without thought...as a person does in dreams.

"Tim! Listen to me! It's Tony!"

Tim gradually stopped trying to get away...and as he calmed, the color faded from his eyes...until they were white again. Tony couldn't decide which was less frightening.

"Tim, you hear me?"

"...yeah...I hear you."

"Good. Stop running. I don't think it's going to help."

Tim managed a weak smile.

"It's a nightmare, Tony. When they come...I have to run. You don't have a choice in nightmares."

"...but in your nightmares, you don't usually know they're nightmares. Right?"

"But when they come...I don't either."

Tony made a decision. "Okay, Tim...I know you don't want to, but I've decided."

Tim furrowed his brow, his white eyes squinting.

"What are you talking about?"

Tony pulled his shirt down, revealing the imprint of Tim's dragon tattoo.

"Remember this?"

"No, Tony!"

"Sorry, McGee. You don't get to decide this time. I do." He grabbed Tim's bleeding right hand and forced it into contact with his own tattoo.

At first, nothing happened...for a few seconds, and Tony felt his certainty fade and he saw the relief on Tim's face.

"Tony...that was really..."

Then, Tony gasped and it felt like he was on fire. This was different from before. It didn't feel like Tim was sucking away his energy. It felt like he was being imbued with the pain Tim should have been feeling. He collapsed to the ground...but it was like Tim's hand was fused to his chest and Tim fell to the ground on top of him. Tony completely missed what was happening to Tim. The fire in his own body took all his attention.

Then, after an eternity, he was vaguely aware that Tim was able to wrench his hand away. He pulled back and out of Tony's view. He was staring straight up into a blank blackness...breathing heavily, willing the fire to go away.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim wasn't faring very well himself. He was trying and trying to pull his hand away because it felt like it was burning. When Tony fell, he fell as well. It took a while, but finally, he yanked his hand away and tumbled back, leaving Tony where he had fallen. He looked at his hand. The gushing blood had slowed. It hadn't stopped completely but it was merely oozing slightly. He looked at it and then over at Tony.

...and then, he looked around himself. There was nothing to see. Absolutely nothing. The black was unending with no variation. There was no way of telling how large the space was. He crawled over to Tony. ...or he _tried_ to crawl. His right hand couldn't bear any of his weight. He couldn't seem to stand up; so he had to kind of shuffle his way over.

Tony's eyes were wide open and he was nearly hyperventilating.

"Tony?" Tim asked. "Tony...please...wake up."

There was a long silence. Tim started to fear that Tony was going to die. He had no idea if that would mean that Tony would be dead in real life if he died in here. Then...

"McGee?"

A very faint voice.

"Yeah?" Tim asked.

"There...is no way that you can ever pay me back for this. You owe me...big time."

Tim started to laugh and then sat back and started to cry, rubbing his left hand over his head.

Tony slowly sat up, rubbing at his chest.

"Oh..._man_, what was _that_?"

"C-C-Cautery...I think."

"Cautery?"

"Disinfecting...and...and stopping the bleeding...by using heat. Fire."

"How did I do that?"

"Dragons," Tim said with a shaky smile. "Don't you remember?"

"But that's _your_ dragons, McGee...mine just glows sometimes."

"I can't...explain it more than that," Tim said. He held out his hand. "It's...not bleeding so much."

"Why _was_ it bleeding?"

"Greta. I saw her in my car...in the rearview mirror...it's..."

"Who is she?"

"I'm not sure...did you notice that...that she's like the opposite of Death?"

"Huh?"

"Black. White. He's always the same dark shape. She's always changing."

"Okay...so?"

Tim smiled a little more. "Sleep...the twin of Death."

"She seems pretty evil for sleep."

"Nightmares," Tim said. "That's where we are, Tony."

"What do you mean?"

"We're in my nightmares."

"Why?"

Tim laughed weakly. "That I can't tell you. I really don't know."

"You seemed to be knowing again, though."

"Not completely."

"How do we get out of here?"

"I don't know that either. Can you wake me up?"

"Don't know how to do that when we're in your dreams."

"That's all I got, Tony," Tim said. "Why did you do that?"

Tony smiled self-deprecatingly. "Well, I have to admit that I didn't know what was going to happen, but it seemed like it might work...and it did, didn't it?"

"For now. I don't know...if it'll last. I feel pretty clear right now, but what if..."

"Let's worry about that when it happens again, okay?"

"Can I worry that I can't move my hand?" Tim asked, holding up his right hand.

Tony looked at it and then looked more closely at Tim.

"If you want...I'm just glad your eyes aren't white anymore."

"I didn't know they ever were."

"Well, they were and they were freaky."

"I'm sure...but they're green now?"

"Yeah."

"So..." Tim looked around. "I don't know what to do."

"_Perhaps you should be afraid."_

Tim and Tony both turned.

Greta was right behind them, her white eyes seeming to be huge, filling all the black space.

"'_Suspense is hostiler than Death!'"_


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

_Sleep hath its own world,  
><em>_A boundary between the things misnamed  
><em>_Death and existence: Sleep hath its own world,  
><em>_And a wide realm of wild reality,  
><em>_And dreams in their development have breath,  
><em>_And tears, and tortures, and the touch of joy.  
><em>_Byron—The Dream. St. 1._

Greta's eyes filled the void, her shape now white and without detail. All they could see with any certainty were her eyes...her horrid white eyes.

"_What happens if you die in your dream?"_ she asked.

Tim looked at Tony but said nothing. Tony had no idea what was going through his head, but if it was anything like Tony himself was thinking, he was worried about that kind of a question.

Then, the whispering voices, which had never quite vanished, began to increase in volume. The unintelligible words gained meaning...but not quite understandable as yet.

Repeating the same words over and over again, the voices, while remaining whispers, got louder and louder. Greta hovered in place, her eyes both taking up every bit of space and staring at them from a distance. Lights began flickering around Tony and Tim, creating a strobe-light effect. Faintly, beyond the distracting lights, Tony could see dark shapes...thousands of them, arrayed in a circle around the two men, Greta continually changing position and size. She said nothing for a time, allowing the voices to grow louder...until, suddenly, Tony could understand the words.

_In the real world  
><em>_as in dreams,  
><em>_nothing is quite  
><em>_what it seems._

"What does _that_ mean?" Tony asked, unsure if he was asking Tim that question or if he was asking Greta...or the voices themselves.

_In the real world  
><em>_as in dreams,  
><em>_nothing is quite  
><em>_what it seems._

The voices only repeated the words as if they were some kind of mantra.

Tony looked at Tim.

"What's happening now?"

Tim just shook his head. He was staring at Greta and nowhere else. It was an intense stare. Tim was watching her. Tony wasn't sure why, but Tim wasn't saying...anything.

"McGee...McGee!"

For Tony, what happened next was all in slow motion.

Greta began to raise her hand, pointing her palm toward Tony. At almost the same time, Tim stepped in front of Tony, raising his tattooed hand. The same dark light that had burst out of her hand before did so again, just as Tim shouted above the constant whispering...whispering which had somehow become a roar of sound.

In the way dreams sometimes happened, Tony watched everything happen, both from a distance and right up close. It was like he had all the time in the world to see it all happen...but he was powerless to do anything to stop it from happening.

Whatever Tim shouted was lost in the roar...and whatever he shouted didn't seem to work. A burst of white light came from his palm, but the dark light Greta had shot out attacked the white light, destroyed it and then penetrated Tim's palm...and then his body. Tim screamed and fell backward...against Tony who staggered in surprise, not ready to be a part of the scene again.

As Tony fell backward, the dark light surrounded them...and then, there was a faint voice as the two of them fell toward the ground in slow motion.

"_Are you ready to wake up?"_

"What?" Tony shouted.

"_Wake up."_

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tony felt hands on his arms...and then one on his face.

"Anthony? Can you hear me? I think he's coming around, Jethro."

There were noises and voices...and...and _light_. Real light. Tony opened his eyes and started to get up, looking around for Greta, looking around for Tim, looking around for the threat.

"Whoa, DiNozzo! Slow down!"

The hands pushed him back to the floor.

"Anthony, I think it would be best if you stayed down for the moment."

"Where's Tim? Where's...Where's Greta? I thought...she..." Things started to become less certain and more fuzzy.

"Greta Louhi doesn't live here, Tony. In fact, she doesn't live anywhere anymore. She's dead, been dead for six months."

Tony tried to get his eyes open and seeing what was around him. He was _seeing_, but nothing was really registering in his mind.

"Just relax, Anthony. Take a moment to breathe. We're glad you're coming around."

"What?" Tony blinked a number of times and finally, Ducky's concerned face came into his view.

"You've been unconscious for quite some time, I think."

"McGee...where's McGee?"

"He is back here, Tony."

"Ziva?"

"Yes, Tony."

"Is he okay?"

"He is unconscious, still."

"I can sit up now, Ducky," Tony said.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." Tony pushed himself up. His head spun a bit and so he stayed on the floor rather than getting to his feet. He looked around. It was not the same house he remembered seeing before. It was old, rundown, hadn't been lived in for a while.

"When you saw no one was living here, why did you come in?" Gibbs asked.

Tony looked around. "She...called us inside."

"Who?"

"Greta."

"She's dead, Tony," Gibbs said.

"No...she was...there...inside."

Tony looked at Ducky and then at Gibbs...and then around. He was in the hallway.

"McGee!" he said again.

"He's in the back room there, Anthony," Ducky said calmly. "He is still unconscious and we have decided not to move him until the ambulance arrives. You don't appear to have any injuries. Do you recall what happened? Did you smell any gas?"

Tony shook his head. He really wanted to get to Tim, to make sure he was okay...to wake him up.

"Light..." he said vaguely. "I...saw a light...dark light..."

"What could cause this, Ducky?" Gibbs asked.

Tony didn't bother listening. Nothing Ducky came up with could come even close to what had happened...and he had no intention of trying to explain it. He tried to get up.

Ducky sighed. "Anthony, you're not steady enough to stand just yet."

"Then, help me," Tony said. "I need to see that McGee is okay...that he's not dead."

"Why would you think he was?" Gibbs asked.

"I talked to someone who was apparently dead," Tony said, trying to keep himself aware enough that he didn't spill any secrets. "I need to know that McGee isn't one of those people...that it was a nightmare...not..."

_In the real world  
><em>_as in dreams,  
><em>_nothing is quite  
><em>_what it seems._

Tony could have sworn that he heard the whispered words and he couldn't suppress the urge to look around for the shadows.

"Anthony, you seem very shaken...but...Jethro, help him."

With Gibbs' strong arm pulling him up and then supporting him, Tony was able to walk down the hall...and into the room where he'd found Tim before. He pulled away from Gibbs and collapsed beside Ziva.

"He has had a bad knock on the head. Perhaps whoever lured you into this house hit him," Ziva said. "But he is no longer bleeding."

Tony barely acknowledged that. He picked up Tim's limp right hand and looked at the palm. The tattoo was there...faint but no longer bleeding. What had happened? He really had no idea.

"Tony."

Another hand on his shoulder made him jump and he looked over at Ziva and then up at Gibbs.

"Yeah, Boss?"

"We're going to take you to the hospital as soon as the ambulance gets here."

"I'm fine!"

"No, you're not," Ducky said. "You're disoriented, confused, and more than a little jumpy. Whatever you were given must have been quite strong. You will need a doctor to determine if you are truly 'fine'."

Tony wanted to protest, but he felt more than disoriented. He felt rather shaky...afraid. Maybe that was his only excuse for what he did next.

He started to shake Tim.

"Wake up, McGee. Time to get up."

Tim remained limp and lifeless...and Tony started to feel a little teary...although he'd never admit that to _anyone_. They'd gone through quite a bit for reasons neither of them knew...and it seemed incredibly unfair to get back to the normal world and not have them both okay again. Tim wasn't supposed to be lying on the floor...looking like he could be dead. He was supposed to be awake and explaining to Tony what had just happened.

A hand on his shoulder and then another, urging him to stand.

"DiNozzo, the ambulance is here. They'll take care of him. Let's get you to the hospital."

Tony looked out the windows, half-expecting to see the blackness...but no, it was light. He allowed himself to be lifted to his feet...and belatedly registered the siren.

"I will stay with him until they come," Ziva promised. "It is all right, Tony. McGee is breathing. He is no longer bleeding. We have taken care of him as well as we can. The doctors will do the rest."

Tony was content to lean on Gibbs and Ducky, but he refused to leave the room until the EMTs came and took Tim away. Only then, did he allow Gibbs to lead him to the porch.

"Why did you come here?" he asked as he attempted to navigate the stairs.

"It has been six hours since you and McGee came here," Ziva said. "Gibbs called you. I called you. Then, Abby discovered that this Greta Louhi had been dead for quite some time, but that information did not show up on McGee's computer. Gibbs wondered how both of you could have missed this."

"We didn't _miss_ it," Tony retorted.

"Abby agrees. The files seemed to be faulty. In any case, because neither of you were answering your phones, we decided it would be best to check and make sure nothing was wrong."

"Did you think we'd be dead?" Tony asked, looking at Ducky.

Ducky smiled. "Not at all. Sometimes, it is best to be prepared for any situation."

"Boy Scout motto," Tony mumbled.

"Exactly. We found the door open, the house in a state of disrepair. ...and then, you and Timothy both unconscious...but without any sign of a struggle beyond Timothy's knock on the head. You still say that you saw Greta Louhi?"

"Who else could it be?" Tony asked, starting to feel fuzzy again.

"Many other people," Ziva said, sounding slightly amused...and slightly concerned.

She opened the door and helped Gibbs get Tony into the backseat. Ducky got in beside him. Gibbs and Ziva got in front (Gibbs was driving).

Tony let his head drop to the seat.

"I'd prefer it if you stayed awake until we get to the hospital, Anthony," Ducky said.

"Why?"

"Just in case."

"In case of what?"

"Anything is possible at this point, and I'd rather not risk anything going wrong."

"Whatever," Tony said.

"Can you try to describe this woman you saw?"

"White..." Tony said and then remembered Greta's eyes. "...white...eyes..."

"Yes? What color were her eyes?"

"White...white hair...eyes..."

Tony was feeling _really_ tired, not really sure what was sapping his energy. Then, he put a hand over his shirt where the tattoo was. It was warm. Tim was using his energy. More slowly than he had last year, but for some reason, he was.

"Really tired, Duck."

"Try to stay awake, Anthony."

"Trying..." Tony mumbled. "...failing..."

His head lolled around and then he was out...his last thought that he hoped there were no nightmares waiting for him.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

They got Tony to the hospital rather faster than was strictly legal, but when they got there, they took him to the ER. He was given a blood test. The doctors made a full examination and declared that his body was worn out from whatever had happened but that he would likely awaken on his own. They put him on an IV but they weren't overly worried.

There was no trace of any drug in either man's body. It seemed that whatever they had been given was fast acting and metabolized quickly as well.

Tim had some swelling from the contusion on his head, but they were watching it and it was minor enough that it would likely go away on its own. Whatever was keeping him unconscious didn't appear to be related to his head injury...but stranger things had happened.

Unless Tony and Tim awakened with a reliable memory of what had happened, it seemed unlikely that there would be any trails to follow in figuring out who had been there, what he or she had done to them and why.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tony woke up during the night and he snuck through the halls to Tim's room.

Tim was still unconscious, but Tony noticed that his eyeballs were moving rapidly beneath his closed lids.

"McGee, wake up. It's time to get out of that nightmare. You shouldn't have done what you did. It was stupid. It was just a dream. Dreams aren't real. ...are they?"

Tim didn't reply. He lay there. Limp. Unmoving.

"Come on, McGee! We've got a movie to watch, remember? We have to watch one of the Road Pictures!"

Still nothing.

"Okay...okay, McGee. I'll wait here until you wake up. I won't watch it until you can watch it with me."

Tony settled back in the chair, propped his feet up on another chair.

...and fell asleep.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Tim fell...and fell...and fell. Tony disappeared, but Tim remained. He cradled his hand to his chest...or what remained of it. There was a hole in the center of his hand where his tattoo had been. ...and he noticed that the hole went right through him, through his chest.

Then, he hit the ground. It wasn't a floor. He wasn't inside. ...but it wasn't that matte black he'd seen before. He rolled over and got up...using his left hand. His right still wasn't functioning correctly. He was in a deep chasm. Rock walls stretching upward as far as he could see. The area around him was narrow, very little chance of escape.

"Hello?" he called. "Tony?"

"He is no longer here. His part is done. He is awake."

Tim heard the voice and knew who it was...but it seemed less eerie now, more human. He turned.

There was Greta. Her eyes were still white, but she had a human form. ...and Tim found that he felt no compunction to run from her.

"Why am I still here?"

"You have more to learn."

"Learn? What are you _talking_ about?"

"You still fear...even though you understand."

"Fear what?"

"Who and what you are. What it means for you."

"Who are _you_ to tell me who and what I am?"

Greta smiled.

"What am _I_?" she asked.

"Sleep."

"In a human perspective, yes. That _is_ what I am. What am I really?"

Tim looked at her, looked at his hand, still with that disturbing hole burned through it.

"I don't know."

"Yes, you do. You are a knower. By your nature, you cannot _help_ but know. You are not human. Do not force your thoughts into a human mindset."

"I _am_ human. I just know."

Greta smiled and her eyes glowed. "Yes, you know. And you know as much as I. ...as much as _he_, that you are not a mere human. You tread the line between human and demon. You tread the line between life and death. You tread the line between..." Her smile widened. "Between life and dreams."

A line from a poem Tim didn't think he even remembered flashed in his mind. He repeated it aloud.

"'The Nightmare LIFE-IN-DEATH was she,  
>Who thicks man's blood with cold.'"<p>

"Yes."

"But that doesn't say what you are."

"Yes, it does. Life-in-death. Sleep is called the twin of Death."

The black spector appeared silently behind Greta. Making no move, offering no threat.

"Why are you coming after me?"

"Coming after you? To hurt? To pursue? We have not done that."

"What would you call it, then?" Tim demanded.

"What need have we to pursue? All men die. There is no stopping it. From the moment of birth, man heads toward death. In order to live, all men need sleep. I may enfold them in dreams of pleasure or dreams of horror, but they come to me...willingly. I have no need to pursue them."

Death said nothing. He simply stood. ...existing without need of justification.

"Then, _what_ are you doing to me?"

Greta turned toward Death. He raised his black cloak flung it around him. A wave of darkness emanated from it. In midst of the darkness, Greta whirled in a circle, a white wind springing up, mingling with the blackness but not mixing with it. The two remained distinct, but the wave of white and black spun outward and engulfed Tim in its wake. He was sucked with them...

...to the top of a cliff, looking out on a spreading surface. Earth? No. It couldn't be.

A dream.

"Yes," Greta said as if he had spoken aloud. "A dream...that could become reality."

It was a barren wasteland. No life at all. Nothing but waste and rock.

"The destruction of Mongothsberd was well-done, but the chaos from it has upset the balance of the world...a necessary upset, but nonetheless... Your fight last year was a step in the direction of healing the balance. Demons are not of this world."

"And _you_ are?" Tim asked.

"As much as you. Man cannot live without us. Death and dreams keep the world in balance. Man lives. Man dies. Man escapes briefly from the road he must travel through sleep and dreams. There will always be opposition...but not of this sort. You cannot sit back and pretend your part is done. It is not."

"Why you? ...and why me?"

Greta swirled around once and became transparent and white again.

"Greta," she said. "Often a shortened form of Margaret or Margarethe. Meaning...pearl. Pearls were once considered the most valuable jewel. To own a single flawless pearl was to hold the wealth of a lifetime in one's hand. That is why me."

"I don't understand."

"A pearl of wisdom," Greta said.

The air around her began to tremble. Her white eyes glowed brightly and she stared directly into Tim...into his soul, it seemed.

She began to speak.

_We have a weight to carry  
><em>_and a distance we must go.  
><em>_We have a weight to carry  
><em>_a destination we can't know.  
><em>_We have a weight to carry  
><em>_and can put it down nowhere.  
><em>_We __**are**__ the weight we carry  
><em>_from there to here to there. _

"But what does it mean?" Tim asked.

"_You are a knower. You have a responsibility to this world. It is your weight. None can take it from you. None can do it in your place. While you live you will carry this weight. This weight is your fate and if you shirk it, you will put your world on the edge of oblivion."_

"I can't save the world! I can barely manage myself!"

_Life without meaning  
><em>_cannot be borne.  
><em>_We find a mission  
><em>_to which we're sworn  
><em>– _or answer the call  
><em>_of Death's dark horn._

_Without a gleaming  
><em>_of purpose in life,  
><em>_we have no vision,  
><em>_we live in strife,  
><em>– _or let blood fall  
><em>_on a suicide knife. _

Tim turned away from Greta, intent on leaving her presence...but Death appeared. No threat, but no avenue for escape.

"_Only one true knower lives in a generation. One to have the power. That is you. If you will refuse your task..."_

Tim turned back. "What? I'll die? You'll kill me?"

"_You will reject your purpose, your soul. You will kill yourself. Your power and your heart have been burned away. You are living on borrowed strength. If you will accept who you are and what may be required, they will be restored. If not...yes, you will die."_

"But I don't know what to do!"

"_We do not know where each road will take us. Not even a knower will see that end. But there is only one road for each of us. We choose to follow that road or reject it. The road is different for each...and to some degree we control its direction. ...but you are not as other men. You have a responsibility. It has been laid upon you and you cannot deny it and live."_

"I can't do this alone!" Tim said. "I've never done it alone!"

"_I am not alone. Death is not alone. None of us are alone. Why would you think that you should be?"_

Tim couldn't answer that question.

_To see what we have never seen,  
><em>_to be what we have never been.  
><em>_To shed the chrysalis and fly,  
><em>_depart the earth, kiss the sky,  
><em>_to be reborn, be someone new:  
><em>_is this a dream or is it true._

"Why all this? Why this...playing on my fears?"

"_Can you move beyond what you fear and embrace yourself?"_

"I don't know what to do."

"_That is not required. ...and you are not the only one who fights. Others fight in their own ways. The knowers are only one kind."_

"What are the others?"

"_If it becomes necessary for you to know, you will. Now, it is not. Now, we must have your answer."_

Greta stepped back...into the folds of the cloak of Death. White and black.

Tim turned away from the two figures awaiting his decision. He looked out over the blasted wilderness which spread out below him. He looked up into the sky, wishing for some kind of inspiration, something that would tell him the right way to go.

...and then, after uncounted time had passed, he heard it, whispering in the air. It was not Greta. It was not Death. It was not the shadows.

It was the voice of someone he had known once. Once as a child...visiting a circus...when he had first been branded as a knower. And once after he had freed her from Mongothsberd, before her death.

_On the road that I have taken,  
><em>_one day, walking, I awaken,  
><em>_amazed to see where I have come,  
><em>_where I'm going, where I'm from. _

He looked around.

"Rhian?" he whispered.

_This is not the path I thought.  
><em>_This is not the place I sought.  
><em>_This is not the dream I bought,  
><em>_just a fever of fate I've caught._

"Where are you?" he asked.

Out beyond his reach, a faint green glow appeared. Beside the green glow was a gray one. After a moment, two human shapes were formed out of the glow.

"_Listen, knower. Listen and know."_

Tim listened but heard nothing.

"_Do not fear to know. What is there will be there whether you know it or not. By knowing, you have the power to change what is there."_

Tim looked out over the wasteland, the remnants of his world. Could he really let this possibility become reality? Could he really sit back and ignore what he knew was there? His fears of inadequacy would be realized if he did nothing. Even were the threat of death not hanging over him. Yes, he had a choice...but he had made the choice long ago. He was not forced to do these things, but he was constrained by the choices he had made. Each choice led him in another direction.

"_Yes."_

Tim looked at the shapes of knowers past. Rhian and Sorin, the two people he had known only centuries after their supposed deaths.

Finally, he nodded.

"_Finish," _Rhian's voice whispered.

Tim took a breath and spoke the words he could hear.

_"I'll change highways in a while,  
><em>_at the crossroads, one more mile.  
><em>_My path is lit by my own fire.  
><em>_I'm going only where I desire."_

Greta's indistinct form swirled in front of him as the green and gray auras faded away.

"_This is your answer?"_ she asked.

Tim closed his eyes, clenched his right hand and pressed it over the center of his chest. He began to walk forward...toward the edge of the cliff. Walking without stopping, without looking, knowing the edge was there...and he finished the words.

_"On the road that I have taken,  
><em>_one day, walking, I awaken.  
><em>_One day, walking, I awaken,  
><em>_on the road that I have taken."_

Then, he took one more step and began to fall.

...and fall...

...and fall...


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Tony slept, dreaming dreams that were...quite frustrating actually. He could _almost_ see what was going on. He could _almost_ hear what was being said. ...but not quite. As if he had earplugs in and was seeing through layers of cheesecloth. He struggled to open his eyes, to clear out his ears, but nothing doing. It was _not_ restful. It was irritating.

Finally, he woke up. He sat up too quickly and felt a little dizzy. His feet clunked onto the floor as they fell off the chair he'd used to prop them up.

Stretching a little, he looked over at Tim.

...and as if that had been a signal, Tim suddenly opened his eyes and sat up, inhaling deeply and looking around for...something. For just a moment, Tony thought that his eyes were white, but then, Tim blinked and they were green. For just a moment, Tony could have sworn that there was a hole in Tim's chest, a hole in his hand, but then, the holes were gone as if they'd never been.

Tim didn't seem to be seeing much, and Tony knew how that felt. He sprang into action.

"Hey, McGee! Calm down. I don't think you should be moving around so much right now."

Tim's head jerked around as he struggled to find whatever he thought was there.

"Tim!" Tony said. "Calm down before the nurses come in and yell at me."

Tim blindly grabbed onto Tony's arms and stared at him.

"There...it's...where...dreams..."

Tony shook him a little bit.

"Hey, Tim," he said more gently. "You hear me?"

Tim blinked a couple of times.

"Tony," he said finally.

"Yeah. Who else?"

"Rhian...Sorin...they...Greta..."

"What happened?"

Tim slumped back down onto the bed. His eyes closed. Tony looked at him in concern for a moment, but then, he lifted Tim's hand and saw the tattoo, black and prominent as it usually was. He lifted one of Tim's eyelids and saw the green.

Tony smiled and settled back. Tim would wake up again. He was sure of it. He could wait without too much worry now.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim opened his eyes and realized he was truly awake. Somehow, there was no question of that fact. He was awake and aware...and alive.

He held up his right hand and looked at it. No hole. The tattoo was there. In fact, as he stared at it, the dragons shivered just for a moment...as if to assure him of their presence...whatever they were. He wasn't exactly sure because he didn't always seem to have control over them.

"Hey, Probie. Awake again?"

Tim looked beyond his hand and saw Tony sitting beside him. He smiled.

"Yeah. Hi."

"How you feeling?"

Tim turned his palm toward Tony.

"Not bleeding anymore."

"That's good. How about the rest of you?"

"I'm a little fuzzy."

"That's probably because of your head injury."

"Huh?"

"You fell backwards onto the floor without bothering to catch yourself, McGee. You're lucky you're only feeling fuzzy."

Tim quirked his mouth into a half smile.

"I guess so."

Tony's expression became serious.

"What happened? I woke up, but you didn't."

"I had...more to...learn."

"More to _learn_?" Tony asked. "What do you mean? Who was teaching you?"

"Greta."

"She's dead, by the way."

Tim sighed. "Doesn't surprise me in the least. Makes me wonder if there was _ever_ a Greta Louhi in reality. Reality has been changed before."

"Yeah. So?"

"So...I had to make a decision...one I'd already made, but I had to make it again."

"What decision?"

"Whether I was going to do what I know I have to do or die."

"What?"

"I'd already agreed to be what I am, Tony...but I've been afraid of it. I haven't been who I should be."

"I think you've been doing pretty good so far, McGee."

Tim smiled. "Not good enough...and I had to agree to be who I am...and accept what it means."

"So...what does it mean?"

Tim straightened up in the bed.

"That I'm not like anyone else...and I can't really have a normal life. I have a job to do beyond NCIS and I can't ignore it. Too much is riding on it."

"It's not like you've been sitting around, McGee."

"Maybe not, but I could be doing more...to fix the things I've done."

"What? What have you done?"

"When I destroyed Mongothsberd, I didn't realize that I changed more than just Mongothsberd. I put the whole world out of balance. That's why that portal showed up last year. There's a balance I have to restore. I don't know how I'm going to do that, but I have to...because I'm the one who put it out of balance. I had to do that, but now I have to fix it."

Tony sat back and looked at him. He said nothing for a few minutes. Tim took the opportunity to lean back and look around. He realized consciously for the first time that he was in a hospital bed. He really hadn't noticed that when he awakened before. He started to wonder how they'd got here.

"And you're sure that Greta was telling you the truth?"

"Yes."

"Why all the rigamarole, then? Why not just tell you that?"

Tim smiled. "I think she was enjoying herself, actually...but she had a point."

"So she's not the bad guy?"

"I don't know. I think she's kind of beyond the whole cops and robbers thing. ...but I don't think she's very nice."

Tony laughed. "Not nice. That's pretty mild."

"She showed me what the world could be like...and I don't want that. So if I have to accept some...not niceness...I think I can."

"Okay." Tony took a breath. "McGee?"

"Yeah?"

"What will you have to do?"

"Don't know yet. It's not time for that."

"Okay...but when you do know...you tell me."

Tim furrowed his brow. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that if you're going to be doing something to _fix_ things, it's more than likely going to be dangerous...and you can't do it by yourself...whatever _it _is. So you're going to tell me when you know...and I'll be there...even if I can't actually do anything."

"You've done so much already, Tony. I..."

Tony held up his hand.

"Stop it, McGee. If you go any further we're going to be ending with a mushy, non-masculine hug...and we just can't do that. I'm part of this. I chose to be and I'm not backing out...so deal with it."

Tim laughed and then looked around.

"How did we get here?"

"You mean the hospital or here as in our existence? Because if it's the second, you're the one with expertise in that area, not me."

"The first."

"We were in the house for six hours unconscious, although I have no idea when _I_ got knocked out. I remember going in and checking on you in the room...but I apparently didn't ever make it there."

"Can't tell you that. I was distracted."

"Well, they called us after they found out that Greta Louhi was dead, and when we didn't answer, they came. I woke up. You didn't."

"I was busy."

"Right."

"What are they going to ask us?"

"Not much, I don't think. They're convinced that we were drugged somehow."

"I'm okay with that," Tim said, nodding. "Better that than having to answer questions that would get us committed."

"Yes. Straightjackets are just not very fashionable nowadays."

"I don't think they _ever_ were."

"Maybe not. I wouldn't know."

Tim smiled and then sighed.

"Oh, come on, McGee! Don't start thinking all depressed-like again!"

"Tony, you don't know what you could be getting into. This...this stuff that we went through today...it was nothing compared to what could happen next."

"You don't know, either, Probie," Tony said. "...and if you can't get out of it, neither can I. I'm marked, remember?" He pulled down his hospital gown to show his tattoo.

Tim nodded and then silently pulled down his own gown.

Tony gasped.

"What is that?"

Tim looked down and traced the melted skin. "She burned a hole in my chest...I guess it wasn't just a dream."

"McGee...that's...not..."

Tim smiled weakly.

"Remember, Tony?"

"What?"

"'In the real world  
>as in dreams,<br>nothing is quite  
>what it seems.'"<p>

"Will people _see_ that?"

"I don't know. I'm not going to try it out anytime soon."

"I don't like this, McGee."

"I don't really, either."

Tony reached out hesitantly and touched the skin.

"It feels like a scar, McGee. It doesn't feel like something people will miss."

"Good thing I don't make a habit of walking around bare-chested then."

"Why?"

"A reminder. There's a lot at stake here, Tony. The whole world...whether I want it to be my responsibility or not."

"You're not doing this yourself," Tony said again. "I'm serious. Not a chance, McGee."

Tim could see that he meant it. He nodded.

"Okay."

"Good." ...and then, strangely, Tony smiled. "So...now that that's out of the way..."

"What?"

"You have another choice to make."

"What's that?" Tim asked, starting to smile, even though he didn't know where Tony was going with this. He was willing to go along.

"It's our third brush with the supernatural. What Road Picture are we seeing next?"

Tim started laughing.

"I'm serious! I meant it when I said we were going to watch one every time we had to deal with this stuff."

"You can choose."

"Nah. You had the most to do this time. You go ahead."

"Let's do the first one then."

"_Road to Singapore_? Sure...as soon as you get out of here."

"Okay." Suddenly, Tim took a deep breath, his chest feeling tight. "I'm scared, Tony. I don't know what's coming."

"Well...I don't either...but you won't be alone. Get it?"

"Got it."

"Good." Tony grinned. "Now, you just have to convince the doctors to let you out."

"And convince Gibbs that we had only the best of intentions."

"Right. He'll never believe that."

"He might if it were just me, but you..."

"Hey! I just saved your bacon! That's some gratitude!"

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim was released the next day. Since he could, very honestly, say that he had no idea how he had been knocked out and that he had assumed that the voice he had heard beckoning them into the house belonged Greta Louhi, there was little to go on. In the end, it was decided that there had probably been some squatters or drug users staying in the house illegally and they had assumed the worst. Whatever had been given to Tim and Tony would remain a mystery and everyone was just glad that they were both okay.

Tim was on light duty for a couple of days, due to his concussion. Minor though it was, it could have been much worse and the doctors weren't taking any chances.

Sleep was calm, almost boring, in comparison to the waking nightmares both Tim and Tony had experienced, and they liked it that way.

There was only one thing left to do.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Three days later..._

The closing credits rolled...but this time, Tim and Tony were both awake.

"It's nice watching the first of the series, but _Road to Singapore_ isn't my favorite," Tim said.

"The first is better than the last," Tony said. "I like them all, but _Road to Hong Kong_ is the weakest of the bunch. For one thing, they got rid of Dorothy Lamour. For another, they were getting a bit old."

"You know, I thought we were supposed to fall asleep while watching one of these movies," Tim said.

Tony leaned back against the couch. "No rule that requires falling asleep. The movies are more fun if you actually _watch_ them, Probie."

Tim smiled...and then, yawned. "Well, I may have stayed awake for the whole thing, but I'm ready to go to bed now."

"You having any trouble with that?"

"Bed?" Tim asked lightly.

"Sleep," Tony responded seriously.

"No."

"No sign of Greta?"

"Well..."

"What?"

"Just her eyes. I think she's keeping an eye on me. ...but she's not interfering; so it's okay."

"You sure about that, Probie?"

"Positive."

"All right. Remember..."

"When I know, you'll know," Tim said. "I promise. Cross my heart..."

"Don't finish that."

Tim smiled and nodded. "Right."

"Well?"

"Yeah?"

Tony grinned. "Sweet dreams, McGee."

Tim chuckled. "Right back at ya, Tony."

FINIS!


End file.
